naked angels

i'm rearranging and i don't say anything anymore. remember when we used to rail and rant and rave against everything. we were rage before there was a machine. we lamented broken hearts, false smiles, and restrictions heaped upon us by "The Powers That Be."

remember?

and now, what? our jobs. new people. new places. it's hard to stay in touch, stay together, stay integrated, but we've tried because naked angels forever. but we're all on our own adventures now with everything that is not one another.

what do you say, angels? one last farewell ride? one last grand adventure?

this morning i sat watching the sun rise to my own beating heart.



ghost

attendance?

the computer that i am using @ work has this pink index card with "attendance?" written on it. it's there to remind the teacher that i am subbing for to turn in their attendance report for that day.

i thought it might make a good do-it-yourself oneword, since the site has had the same damn word up there for who knows how long. i'm going to start picking random words again because i'm getting restless.

so yeah. here goes: attendance?

are you going to be there? because i don't want to go if you aren't going. the thought of being alone over there with all of those people i don't know very well makes me nervous. i sometimes wonder how i would fair if i didn't have you to lean on in times likes this, and really feel as though you could be holding me back. but that comforts me in a sad sort of way because at least i know what i'm in for with you and me and the same idle chit chat we always have. not having to worry about the balance changing. not having to think on my toes. to actually get involved or risk something. just tell me you'll be there so i can just go into autopilot and live here in this cushy little situation i have built for myself. just tell me that you want to hide with me.

solo

solo. so low. my chest is bare from crawling on the ground. across the broken bottle shards of what was. across the ashes i can't seem to pull myself together enough to rise out of. i never really cared for the myth of the phoenix anyway.

funny how many "friends" you have when you're down in it. they say nice things, remind you to rise above, keep your chin up, give it time.

they are fools.

from brash beginning to the bitter end, we are all, each and every one of us, alone.



ghost

one word: solo

flying away, high and unevenly. one of my wings is broken. and i'm alone. but it doesn't take away from the fact that i am up in the air... soaring and free... even with all the pain.

oneword: blind

the pain is so bad i can't see. i can't see more than 5 minutes in front of me. what happens later on shouldn't be of a concern. can't be a concern. but you let it rule you like you can't see me.

oneword: create

Strike a note in the air, that the sound might be distinguishable from the noise. Whether order from chaos or chaos from order, the made is unmade. A single instant provides destruction’s utter destruction. It begins.

oneword: create

build me something pretty. that is dying on the inside. or something small. that is more important than anything twice its size. something that reminds you of how it used to be. even though you didn't like the way it used to be. something that gets you back to where you started. even if you don't know how it ends yet.

oneword: pure

purity of motion. dancing in denial. i am the aftermath of broken rings, failed trust. the pieces on the chess board are not supposed to change colors.

ghost

onewrod: blade

blade, man, you died as hard as you lived. i wasn't around, i had moved on, so far away from you, from that world. i used to joke that you would die with a fifth in one hand, a knife in the other, and a curse on your lips. the way i hear it though, you died in a puddle of your own filth, with nothing more than a moan and a pauper's plot to mark your passing existence.

ghost

oneword: tail

tale ends, tail spins, ice on the ground and a broken bottle. my blood mingles with the ice, and i am transported into a dali painting, abandoned inside a poem by robert frost. drowsy and alone. is it chemical induced isolation, or am i just sick of you all?


ghost

oneword: intricate

intricate. the pattern of our lives weaved, threaded, and spun together. even if a loose thread snags some sharp object and the momentum of our movement were to pull us undone, you will never truly be without my pattern so carefully and permanantly intertwined with your own. we would have to destroy ourselves to be free of the other.


ghost

sliver(s)

everytime you jump, you just know she's gonna catch you. leap, her arms fall to the side as you fall past and slam into the ground. you try to clean up the soul glass splinters, but like actual glass slivers you never really get them all and end up cutting your fingers on them time after time. after a while, you gather enough confidence to try again. everytime you jump, you just know she's going to catch you.

ghost

oneword: sliver

just a tiny piece. a small, narrow, slightly broken sliver of you. that's all i need to keep. all i need to keep moving. keep hoping. keep believing. place me on the back burner. use me until i'm raw and boring and you don't want me anymore. i'll still wait. i'll still hope. as long as i have that piece.

oneword: sinner

i was the wind. i was the light. i was a fleeting thought of life and love. i was rapture wrapped up in a smile. i was all things childish and filled with wonder. i was the savior of your world.

and i gave it all away.


ghost

oneword: saint

my father dressed me down in robes and moons and stars that dripped onto the floor like the blood of his wounds and passions long lost in the fray between him and his love and hate for a god who never let him have what he wanted.

oneword: saint

warlock, our brother of perpetual lies. man, i remember you. the golden boy, all flash of teeth and bronze of skin. where are you now? alone in an old house. wife gone. kids gone. a junkie. loathed and despised. i wonder if i'll give a fuck when you go marching in.


ghost

oneword: melt

the asphalt bubbled and bled swirling steam into the winter air. what the hell? another biblical prophecy coming true. buildings gone. people dead. even the roaches have bit the big one. life as we know it, knew it, wanted it, over.

"damn it, i refuse to be another Dali painting," i whisper, despite the fact there's not a soul around to hear me.

ghost

oneword: hay

hay is for horses. at least thats what you always said. you were always little miss manners. what a liar/hoax/crock. what's the proper etiquette for breaking a heart? doesnt really matter does it, because you did it so incredibly well, you hob nailed bitch.



ghost

directions needed

where to red star? show the path you have tread so that i may follow. or at the very least, track your movement across our collective sky. and wonder at the brilliance of your crimson flow.

dark father waits in a blue pool.



ghost

lost

lost time. lost voice. lost friend. i want it all back, but i see you are nowhere to be found. where to, red? where do we go from here?

ghost